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The California sun beat down through the thick cables of the Golden Gate bridge, assaulting Red's eyes even through the protection of their shades. They shrugged sluggishly, leaning as far back in their seat as their occupied hands would allow. Warm. Like a huge heated blanket had been thrown over their entire body. A faint, quick drum beat picked up from the holotape player, and Red recognized the song right away, letting out a silent chuckle. Of course it would play now.
All I am is a man, I want the world in my hands. I hate the beach, but I stand in California with my toes in the sand.
One beige gloved hand wrapped around the top of the steering wheel, guiding the car with lazy turns of the wrist. The other, bare, was pulled over to the passenger's side, limp and pliant in Ham's hands as he toyed with it, tracing his thumb in a circle over the taut scar tissue on its back. There would definitely be some tan lines. After just the day of driving, the arm on the wheel had gotten darker than the glove. The other hand had lost its normal deathly pallor, though it still paled next to Ham's richer tones.
"'am." Red started with a soft gurgle, then swallowed, flexing the muscles of their throat to adjust their voice. "You're gonna wear another hole in it, my dude."
Ham snorted, pausing his ministrations. "You a surfer now?"
"Totally dude, you wanna watch me shred some sick waves at uhh-" They trailed off, floating back up into a soft tenor. "The uhh... Ocean Beach?"
Ham shook his head in disbelief and tore his eyes from San Francisco Bay, watching the cute way Red pursed their lips and furrowed their brow to think hard. He stared at their shiny pink lips, a match for their pink dress, and felt a grin creep up on his face as his mind conjured up the memory of putting those two things on them.
"Pretty sure that's a real beach around here." Red blinked, squinting past the steering wheel at the car in front of them as a dull ache began behind their eyes from the effort of remembering. "Yeah." Their foot moved automatically, easing down on the brake for a smooth deceleration. "Ocean Beach. I've been there."
The hand in Ham's lap lifted an inch, wanting to be back on the steering wheel, before dropping back down for him. He took it, clasped in both hands, and brought it up to his lips, kissing a sliver between their knuckles that bridged the mess of scars between the front and back of their palm.
Red let out a silent whine and pursed their lips again. There was a lull in the music, an indulgent slow rhythm that mimicked the waves below them. A shadow passed over them, the second bridge tower, and the bay ahead began to be swallowed by the shoreline. Ham brushed his lips over Red's fingertips. They were almost up to a normal body temperature, baked by the sun and warmed between his hands. He kissed their knuckles again.
Cuz it's too cold for you here and now, so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater. Ohh...
"I'm thinking about taking a world tour some time. Wanna come?"
"Now?" Ham found himself blurting out. Whenever they had announced international trips before, they would be gone within the week. Without him. "You have more business out there or something?"
"Naw, nothing like that. Just wanted to see the world. You can practice your French." Red blinked, then murmured as an afterthought. "And keep me company."
"Wasn't there a civil war going on over there?" He searched the blank look that had settled back onto Red's face, but the soft way they had said the last few words already made up his mind.
"Yeah well, it's France. They're always having those." They shrugged, then drew their hand back to make a turn. "Glove." They said, setting their hand back down, and Ham dutifully slipped a dainty glove over it. Couldn't let the pedestrians staring jealously at the lucky fuckers in the electric cars catch a glimpse of these hands. The Red Menace was supposed to be in Boston. Or Vegas. or New York. Well, there wasn't supposed to be a commie with holes in their hands and glowing red eyes running around, alive, in the first place. Not that most residents of San Francisco would actually try to turn them in, but they were too drained to make conversation with any fans.
"How long will you be gone?" Ham asked, still holding their hand through hot, thin leather.
Red huffed a quiet laugh, shaking their head. "When have I ever known that? I dunno." Their expression barely shifted behind the shades, but they blinked a few times, pouting and furrowing their brow again in thought. "Maybe half a year. Or a year. I'll see."
A whole year. "And you don't have any business."
Red took back their hand to steer again. "Well, I'll probably end up finding some if I need to earn some favors." The car they were in was on loan as a favor from the local Chinese mafia, the details behind which Ham didn't care to know. Whatever it was, it was community service.
"And I'll have you all to myself?" Ham watched as Red inclined their head slightly away, the corner of their lip drawing up almost imperceptibly into a tiny shy smile.
"You have me tonight." A promise that set off a flutter in his heart. But didn't answer the question. They rolled to a gentle stop, apparently in the parking lot of some sprawling beachfront hotel.
"Will I?" Ham asked again, and watched Red roll their eyes behind their shades, black irises briefly flashing red dramatically.
They clicked open their seatbelt and turned to face him, slinging an arm over the back of his seat. "I asked you along for the company. What do you think?" They peered over the top of their glasses with a challenging stare.
Ham bristled at the challenge, leveling a glare of his own. "It's a fair question, not like you haven't- mmrhf!"
Red seized Ham's chin between three fingers and crashed their lips to his, silencing whatever argument was forming there. Ham made an indignant noise in his throat. The kiss started hard, Ham's hand shooting out automatically to grasp at Red's raven hair, then softened to something slow, languid. Fingers tangled into the extra soft hairs at the nape of Red's neck, and they shuddered, sighing into Ham's mouth.
As they pulled away, Red peeled the sunglasses off from where it had been squished against their face and tucked them into their collar, wrinkling the bridge of their nose to soothe it.
"I missed you." Ham sighed, reverently pressing a kiss between Red's eyes.
Red hummed and ignored him, tracing the lower border of his pink-smeared lips with the tip of their thumb. It had only been a month. His light stubble scratched at the thin leather of their glove. They pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Ham turned his head to capture Red's lips again, twisting in his seat to clutch them even closer, to crush the dull pang that seized his heart at their non response.